Nancy's Descent Pt. 04

"Was that the doorbell?" he asked, at the same time she said," Is that you?' She swallowed and answered his question before he spoke, again. "Yes. Yes, it's the doorbell. Sir."

"Okay. Go and answer it, then."

He hadn't answered her question. Nancy stood in the middle of the living room, trying to calm down. The doorbell rang again.

"Answer the door, Nancy."

"Yes, Sir," she whispered, making her way to the door. She peaked through the peephole. It wasn't him, but a delivery man. She frowned, but her heart slowed. The man smiled half-heartedly when she opened the door.

"Evening," he said, handing her a small package.

"It's late for deliveries," Nancy said, raising an eyebrow at him. He shrugged, handing her a device attached to an electronic pen. She had to put the phone in her back pocket and shift the box under her arm to take it and sign. She handed it back to him and he looked at her signature.

"Last name?" he asked.

"Rinard."

He gave a curt nod. "Have a good night, Ma'am."

"Good night," Nancy murmured, closing the door behind her. She rested her back against the door for a moment, before taking the phone back out.

"Sir?"

"I'm here. Have you got the package?"

"Yes, Sir. It's from you?"

"It is. Go ahead and open it. I'll wait. Do NOT hang up this phone, Nancy. "

"Yes, Sir."

She brought out a small knife from a drawer and opened it, standing at the kitchen table. Some packing peanuts tumbled out of the box onto the table and floor, but she ignored it.

"There should be three items, Nancy," Mr. Hoyden began, as she pulled out the contents. "Go ahead and unpack them."

"Yes, Sir."

When it was done, she stood looking at the items. One of them was a pair of panties with hardly any fabric to them. In fact, she was not even sure it was fair to call them undergarments. The second, she was ashamed to admit, was something she recognized—not because she'd ever used them, but only from vague references from porn or the few times she'd perused a sex shop with a giggling friend. They were nipple clamps. The third item, she did not recognize. It was pink and almond shaped, with a long tub coming from it with a handle of some sort at the other hand. She was reminded of a blood pressure cuff. She frowned at it, in confusion.

"Tell me when you're finished." Mr. Hoyden's voice made her blink out of her thoughts, and she sat down, taking a moment to sip her whiskey. If there was ever a time for whiskey during a phone call, this was it.

"I'm done, Sir."

"Good. Is it all out of the packaging?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Good. Now the first thing I want you to do is take the nipple clamps and the pump to the sink and wash them, gently. You can leave the phone, I'll be waiting. Tell me when you're finished. Wash carefully, don't damage them. Set them down on some paper towels, and let them air dry. Be quick about it."

"Pump?"

"That's the pink one, Baby. Go on."

"Uh...Yes, Sir."

When she was finished, she toweled off her hands, and ran them through her hair. She took another stolen moment to calm herself and take a bigger swig of her drink. What in God's name did he have in store for her, tonight?

"I'm done, Sir," she said, when her phone was against her cheek, again.

"Excellent. This evening you'll be using the panties and the clamps. The pump will come later. Now, how many lights are on in your house?"

Taken aback, Nancy blinked a few times, looking around.

"Um...three, Sir."

"Which ones?"

"The kitchen light, the lamp in the living room and the light in the laundry room."

"Where is the laundry room?"

"It's connected to the kitchen, at the end of the house."

"Where are you?"

"The kitchen table."

"Turn off all of the lights except for the one in the laundry room. Leave the door open, though."

"Yes, Sir," she said, completely at a loss for what he was planning.

"Okay, I'm done, Sir."

"Good. Now open any curtains or blinds in the living room and kitchen."

Nancy's heart sped up and her pussy pulsed, beginning to guess what was in store for her.

"Okay. Sir," she said in a small voice, when she was done. She quickly tried to gauge how easily someone could see into the house. If someone drove by very slowly or walked down the sidewalk, and looked deliberately inside, they would be able to make out her form if she was directly in front of the window. Because the source of light came from the back of the house, she would at least be in a sort of silhouette, so details would still be difficult to come by for any peeping toms. She suddenly wondered if he was out there, somewhere.

"Good. Now remove your clothes."

Nancy sighed and closed her eyes. She knew it was coming, but still, her heart leapt.

"Yes, Sir."

"Good girl."

When it was done, she held her clothes in the crook of an elbow. She was standing in the hallway, where the only window nearby was in the second bedroom with the door closed. She was not on display. Not yet, at least.

"Now, go put your clothes away. You won't need them for the remainder of the night."

"Yes, Sir," she mumbled, turning and peeking around the kitchen door. There was a small window which faced an empty parking lot and a windowless building, thank God. She crept through and threw her clothes into the now empty laundry basket.

"Don't be sullen, young lady."

"Yes, Sir."

"Better. Now tell me. Do you have any lubricant?"

"I...no, Sir."

"What about coconut oil?"

"Yes. I have that, Sir."

"Good. Go get it and bring it to your living room. Better bring a hand towel with you. Two, in fact."

While she retrieved the items, he kept talking. "Have you got an armchair, Nancy?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Excellent. When you get to the living room, I want you to set down your bundle. Tell me when it's done."

"Yes, Sir." A few moments later, she took a deep breath where she stood over the coffee table, looking at the items. Her nerves were building more and more. Her nipples were peaky, even though it wasn't cold. She looked towards the biggest window. It was directly facing the armchair. She quickly sat down and tucked her knees up to her chest.

"I'm done, Sir."

"Good. Now I want you to get a good amount of oil onto your hands, and massage it into your breasts, focusing on your nipples. Set down the phone and put it on speaker."

"Yes, Sir."

The phone was on the end table a moment later, and she reached over her knees, bringing up one of the hand towels and placing it on the arm of the chair. She unscrewed the lid of the coconut oil and lifted out about a tablespoon of the oil with her curled fingers. While she was rubbing it into her hands, warming it up and melting it with her body heat, Mr. Hoyden spoke to her, in a low, even tone.

"You're a good girl, Nancy. Such a good girl. It makes you happy to be my good girl. Nothing brings you more peace than to obey me. Are you massaging your breasts, like a good girl?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Gooood. Get a little more on your fingers, and start working it into your nipples."

"Yes, Sir."

Nancy stared forward at the open window, as she pinched and rolled her nipples, Mr. Hoyden's voice, calming and lulling her as he spoke.

"Are you my good girl, Baby?"

"Yes, Sir."

"You're safe with me. Always safe with me. You belong to me now, Nancy. You understand that, don't you?"

"Yes, Sir." She looked down. Her nipples were getting pink from the stimulation. She always felt weird about playing with her own nipples. She closed her eyes, and suddenly found herself imagining they were his hands, his fingers, that his voice was in her ear, GOD! That voice...

Nancy's eyes shot open. No, no, no. Just do what he says, that's all. You're in the long game, now. You're going to get out of this, just play along for now. Don't go down that road. Hang in there, girl.

Mr. Hoyden's voice made it hard to concentrate. His soothing baritone, with a slight metallic rasp, made it hard to concentrate on anything other than the sound of his voice.

"Are you nervous, Baby?"

"Yes, Sir," she admitted.

"Is it harder to go into that special place without my presence?"

"S-special place?"

"Yes. We call it sub-space. You enter it immediately at the sight of a number of things, namely my face. My voice has the same effect, but it is strongest in my physical presence. So...is it harder for you to slip into that special place? Harder than when I'm with you?"

"Yes, Sir."

"I thought as much. That's okay, I can help you. Look around the room, Nancy. Is there a reflective surface? Is there a place the light from the laundry room reflects?"

Nancy looked around, frowning. "No, Sir."

"Do you have a belt buckle or maybe a tea pot?"

She thought a moment. "Yes, Sir. I have a copper tea pot."

"That's perfect. Go and get it. Set it down in front of you where you can easily see it. Tell me when it's done."

Nancy felt silly tip-toeing around with one arm across her chest. If someone was going to look in, they'd see her. She returned to the living room and set down the teapot on the coffee table before settling back in the chair.

"I'm done, Sir."

"Good. Now, lean back and get comfortable."

"Yes, Sir," she said, leaning back, letting her ankles cross and her arms rest on the arm rests.

"Good girl. I want you to rest your calves or your knees, whichever is most comfortable, on either side of the arm rests. I want your legs open nice and wide, and I want that pretty little pussy of yours on display."

She moaned quietly, before murmuring a 'Yes, Sir', and obeying. Once she was in position, her naked pussy was completely exposed for anyone who passed by with a keen eye. His voice returned, and she found it soothed her.

"Are you in position?"

"Yes, Sir."

"That's a good girl. Does that make you a little bit nervous, Baby?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Mmm-hmm. That's okay. It's okay to be a little nervous. It's okay to be a little embarrassed. If somebody sees you, they simply get a little treat. And you're not naughty for it, you see? You're only obeying me, which makes you a good girl. My good girl. Look at the tea pot. It has a little orange reflection on it, yes?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Focus on that light, and listen to my voice. Notice other little sounds. Maybe cars or dogs barking outside. A clock ticking. Notice those things, and then let them fall away. All those noises only make my voice more prominent. Calm you more, relax you more deeply."

Nancy's eyes had glazed a bit, slightly narrowed, as she looked at the spot of light on the tea pot. The dryer behind her was calm, rhythmic, soothing. She could hear her watch ticking, calm, rhythmic. A car drove by outside. His voice was so enveloping. For the first time, Nancy wanted to go to that place. At least when she was in that special place, sub space, he'd called it, there was no struggle, no pain. Only his voice, only the pleasure. Such deep, warm pleasure.

"You belong to me, Nancy. And I take good care of my possessions. Don't forget to pinch and pull on those little nipples."

"Yes, Sir," she breathed. Her bare feet wide apart, flexed, and her toes curled.

"Do you belong to me, Nancy?"

"Yes...Sir."

"Say it."

"I—I belong to you, Sir."

"And do I take good care of what's mine?"

"Yes, Sir."

"And whatever happens, whatever you do, you're a good girl, so long as you're obedient."

"Yes, Sir."

"Obeying me brings you such peace, Nancy."

"Yes, Sir."

"Obeying me frees you. Nothing else matters when you are under my Dominion. There is nothing. Nothing but the sound of my voice."

"Yes, Sir."

"Now. Are your nipples getting sore?"

"No, Sir."

"Good. I want you to pinch them tight and pull a little harder. Slow, hard tugs, in a milking motion."

"Yes, Sir." Her voice was a bit monotone, low and even like his. She did not recognize that voice, did not even notice it came from her mouth. All there was was his voice, the tea pot, and the pleasure and discomfort of pulling on her nipples so hard. She wiggled a little, her toes still curling at the growing discomfort of it.

"Gooood," he purred," pull. Pull slow and hard, Baby. I want those pink nipples red and hard. Are you my good girl, Baby?"

"Yes, Sir," she sighed, her pussy throbbing, involuntarily.

"Say it."

"I'm a good girl."

"Whose good girl?"

"I'm your good, girl, Sir."

"Yes, you are," he said. She could hear a deep satisfaction in his voice. She could hear the smile, in that voice. She had given him pleasure, she realized. She had that power. She had the power to make him smile, to barely be able to contain his glee through his hypnotic voice. A trace of a smile crossed her face, then the flutter of a frown, then only focus, focus on the light, wiggling bottom and curling toes.

"Okay, Sweetheart. You can let go of your nipples, and sit up. Are you sore, anywhere?"

"Yes, Sir. My nipples are getting a little sore."

"Just a little bit?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Good, that's good. Now go and get the nipple clamps. I'll tell you how to use them."

When she'd returned to the chair, she noticed a tiny wet spot on the seat, and she blushed, for no one to see. She put the second towel over it and sat back down, holding the nipple clamps in slightly trembling fingers. She bit her lip. She was already a little sore. She did not want to put them on. And yet, she knew she would.

"I have them, Sir."

"Good. Lie back the way you were." He waited a moment before continuing. "Now you see the open ends? Place them around the tip of your nipples, the little buds the size of eraser heads. The little bulb at the other end moves down, so it's adjustable. Pull the bulb down until it's secure on your nipple. Just enough pressure so that if you let it go, it stays in place."

"Yes, Sir," she said, fumbling a little. She was nervous, and didn't want this thing on her already over-stimulated nipple. Her first attempt was clumsy and misjudged, and it fell in her lap.

"Is it on yet?" asked Mr. Hoyden.

"No, Sir. I'm...I'm trying."

"That's okay, Baby. But I want them both on in less than 45 seconds. Take a deep breath and relax. It's time to be a big girl. I know you've never had this much stimulation before, and you've never used them, but I need you to make an effort. "

"Yes, Sir."

When she had the first one on, she winced and curled her toes, tightly.

"How's it going, Sweetheart?"

"I have one on, Sir."

"Good girl. One more to go. Tell me when they're on. You have twenty-five seconds. If it's on by then, a spanking is the first thing you're getting tomorrow, understand?"

"Yes, Sir," she said, as heat raced down to her already wet pussy at the mention of a spanking. She groaned at that, and then whined as the second clamp bit down.

"It's on, Sir," she said in a tensed voice.

"Now, now. It's not so bad. I know those sweet little nipples are sore, but you'll live," he said, with a soft chuckle. "Now where are the panties?"

Her mind shifted out of her discomfort and arousal for a moment to recall. They were still on the kitchen table.

"On the kitchen table, Sir."

"Go get them. I'll tell you how to put them on."

A few moments later, she held them in her hand and sat down, examining them.

"I have them, Sir."

"Good. Put them on like regular panties."

She put her feet through and pulled them up to her hips as he continued talking.

"What do you say?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Good girl. Now, you'll notice the fabric that goes between your legs looks like nothing but a string, yes?"

"Yes, Sir."

"It's very thin?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Take it in your hands. It splits into two strings, doesn't it?"

It did, she noticed, frowning. "Yes, Sir."

"Yes. When you put them on, you will take that string and adjust it so that each string fits snug on either side of your clit. Are you very wet, Nancy?"

"Yes, Sir," she admitted, wiggling into them all the way, before feeling for the split in the string.

"Good girl! Now use your fingers to spread your own wentness around your clit. If it's not enough, use the coconut oil. I don't want you sore down there, yet. "

Yet, she worried. She did not want to be sore down there, at all. "Yes Sir."

When she had the panties in place, she grimaced at the odd sensation. It was pinching her clit lightly, making her painfully aware of its engorged state. It also somehow made her feel more naked, the flimsy fabric making her nudity more apparent in an odd way.

"Are they on, Baby?"

"Yes, Sir."

"How does it feel?"

"Funny. Weird, Sir."

"Funny and weird?" he said, his voice soft and amused. "Is it pinching your little bud?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Does that feel kind of good, Baby?"

"Yes, Sir."

"That's a good girl. Now, I want you to take the string and pull on it. Pull slow and rhythmic. Do you have a clock or a watch you can hear?"

"Yes, Sir," she said, taking the string between her fingers, and giving it a test tug. She curled her toes in pleasure, and a little sigh escaped her mouth.

"Mmm, does that feel good?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Yeah...now I want you to relax into the chair. Are your legs spread open?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Focus on the sound of my voice and the ticking of the clock. I want you to pull gently to the rhythm of the clock. "

"Yes, Sir."

She obeyed, and her eyes drifted to the reflection of light on the coffee pot. Mr. Hoyden's voice, continued, purring his approval, encouraging her, murmuring his reminders of her meekness and obedience. She was not close to an orgasm yet, but she knew it was building toward one, when he changed his rhythmic encouragement and approval.

"Do you think you might have an orgasm, Nancy? If you continue like this?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Good. We're going to be testing your obedience, tonight. When you get close, you will stop tugging. Instead, you will tighten your clamps, and relax for a few moments, listening to my voice. When I tell you, you will begin tugging again. Understand?"

"Yes, Sir," she said, the wince in her voice rather obvious. He tisked his disapproval.

"Don't be a whiny little girl, or you won't get a treat tomorrow. Don't you want a treat, Baby?"

"Yes, Sir," she said, in her smallest, meekest voice.

"Mmmm, that's a good girl! What a sweet little voice, Nancy. I like that. That's the voice I always want to hear. So let's try again. When your orgasm is close, you will stop immediately, pinch your nipples tighter and you will not begin tugging again until I tell you to. Understand?"

"Yes, Sir," she repeated in her most submissive voice.

"Mmm, much better. Good girl. Tell me when your orgasm is close, Baby."

"Yes, Sir."

He did it to her for an hour, which accounted for seven potential orgasms, none of which he allowed her. By the time he finally released her from the torture, her skin was flush, she was panting, and her nipples were on fire. By the seventh orgasm, the intervals between had become less than a minute. She could barely wiggle her hips without accidentally coming. She told him so, and this had apparently caused him to decide she'd had enough.

"You'll build up your tolerance over time," he'd assured her. To which she nearly cried to herself, but only answered with a submissive 'Yes, Sir'.

"Tomorrow," he'd told her, "You will come to my house with a freshly shaved pussy. I want it completely bald and soft as a baby's bottom. You will wear no bra as usual, but you will wear the panties all day long."

Nancy was lying splayed out in the chair exhausted, with the clamps in her lap and the panties around her ankles. Her nipples were red as cherries and the towel she sat on was nearly soaking through.

"Yes, Sir," was all she said.

Wearing the panties all day was nearly as torturous. She knew he had planned it that way, to ensure she was hyper aware of her own sex all day long. She wondered what on earth he had in store for her, today. She could almost bare it all, so long as he did not publically humiliate her.